Phic Phight Oneshots
by bibliophilea
Summary: Drabbles for the Phic Phight 2019 organized by Hollyflash and Ibelieveinahappilyeverafter! Table of Contents and Trigger Warnings in first chapter.
1. Table of Contents

**Table of Contents **

1\. Table of Contents

2\. Space

"Black hole wormholes lead to ghost zone portals. Ghost zone Galaxies, maybe replicating the galaxies IRL; the ghost zone was space basically." - whosvladagain on tumblr

3\. Clueless

"Danny/Jazz swap AU: Jazz is the half ghost and Danny is the older sibling. Go wild on your take of how this would all play out." - octolingkiera

TW: Canon Typical Violence (but with greater consequences), Suicidal Ideation, Broken Bones, Ectoplasmic Burns, Hospital, Electric Burns

4\. Five Minutes and Forty Two Seconds

"WHY DOES NO ON TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE FACT THAT AFTER DEATH PEOPLE HAVE SEVEN MINUTES OF BRAIN ACTIVITY AND A DUDE HAS LITERALLY DROWNED AND BEEN DEAD FOR LIKE A DAY AND WAS RESUSCITATED AND LIVED? IT COULD EXPLAIN PORTAL OR MAKE SOME HECKA GOOD ANGST OR HAPPY ENDING..." - whosvladagain on tumblr

TW: Character death (not permanent though), Mild Suicidal Ideation, General Creepiness

5\. Sitting in a Tree

"Wes meets Dani for the first time." - reallydumbdannyphantomfics on tumblr

6\. Thank You

"Thanks – Sam and Tucker and Jazz do so much to help that Danny isn't sure how he'd still be alive (er, half alive) without them. He wonders how he could ever thank them as much as they deserve" - sapphireswimming on tumblr and ffn

7\. Accident

"Logically, Danny knew that ghosts are dead people. He just didn't expect someone close to him to become one. (TW: death)" - reallydumbdannyphantomfics on tumblr

TW: Major Character Death

8\. Dichromatic

"Soulmate AU- you see color for the first time when you touch your soulmate for the first time, and the world fades to black and white when they pass. When Danny goes ghost, how does this affect his soulmate?" - quishaphantom on tumblr; quishaweasley on ffn

9\. Summons

"Dash tries to summon Phantom to ask him all sorts of questions. What does he do when Fenton appears in the summoning circle instead?" - quishaphantom on tumblr; quishaweasley on ffn

10\. Selfish

"Sometimes Danny wonders if it would really be that bad to be selfish, just for once." - lexiepiper on tumblr; Alexa Piper on ffn; Alexa_Piper on ao3

11\. And Nobody Cared

"Before The Fall - Pick any ghost from Danny's roster and write about what led up to their death." - GrimGrinningGhoul on tumblr

TW: Suicide

12\. Buzzkill

"Electric Core AU - Danny's powers are acting up and he can't figure out how to get them under control, so he's forced to go to the only other ghost he knows with electric powers for help. Write about Danny learning from Technus." - GrimGrinningGhoul on tumblr

13\. A Nice Place to Live

"Ghostly Amity AU: After the events of reign storm the citizens of Amity Park notice that even though their town was returned to the human world, weird anomalies keep popping up. Compasses no longer work within the city limits, electronics will randomly turn on even when unplugged. The hospital has to refer anyone who needs an EKG to a doctor in the next town due to strange noise that can't be calibrated away." - fruity-hub-blog on tumblr; 2fruity4u on ao3 and ffn

14\. Inhuman

"Danny realizes that the more he uses his ghost powers the less human he becomes." - marshmallowmayhem on tumblr


	2. Space

Danny had always dreamed of space.

He had dreamed of flying to Mars on a rocket ship, of visiting Alpha Centauri and exploring what worlds the binary star system has to offer, of seeing the Pillars of Creation with his own two eyes, of traversing the depths of a black hole to find just what lay on the other side of its event horizon.

Of course, most of these dreams were pipe dreams. The Pillars of Creation were 7000 lightyears away; the nearest black hole, 3300 lightyears away in the Monoceros constellation. Even Alpha Centauri, the nearest star system to the Solar system, took 4.3 years to reach traveling at the speed of light. There was no way humanity would invent faster than light travel before Danny was old and gray. So he had set his sights on Mars, on joining NASA's ranks and setting himself up for a trip that could only be made every 26 months, a trip that would take 234 days using Hohmann transfer, a trip that would place him among the first to set foot on another planet.

Now, of course, even that was a pipe dream.

With his grades - hell, with his biology, if you could call it that - how could he hope to join the ranks of NASA? Even if he somehow pulled his grades up enough for them to consider him, he'd never make it past the initial health screening. Even if they didn't send him to the nearest lab for "lots and lots of painful experiments", who would trust a freak of nature like him to join a team of NASA's elite? Except for experimentation, why would anyone send a ghost to space?

But the more time he spent in the Ghost Zone, the more he realized he didn't need NASA to go to space. Space was right here.

In space, stars were born, and lived, and died. And as their lives left an imprint on the universe, so too did their deaths leave a mark upon the Ghost Zone - the remnants of white dwarves peppering the infinite realms, outshone by supernovae forever exploding bright green, spilling ectoplasm into the Ghost Zone. Portals shown like stars, twinkling in and out of existence, forming ever changing constellations against the endless swirling green. When they collided, ectoplasmic dust flew from them, swirling and spiraling and adding to the flow of the Ghost Zone, forming nebulae in which ghosts and lairs and islands were born.

And all of it sang. The supernovae gushing, the portals spinning and colliding, the nebulae drifting, the Ghost Zone itself flowing and swirling in a dance only ghosts seemed to understand - a dance they were a part of, dancing to the musica universalis, the dynamic equilibrium set in the give and take of the infinite realms. It was a dance Danny could feel inside himself, flowing through his veins and thrumming in his core. He couldn't explain it - didn't know how to tell Sam that the howling and static she heard was music to his very being, couldn't explain to Tucker how the meandering route he took from the Fenton Portal to the Far Frozen simply felt right in a way that cutting through the flow in a straight line didn't. They were human - they couldn't feel the music of the spheres in their own universe, let alone in a dimension of which they ultimately were not a part. Danny couldn't explain it, but he could feel it with every last molecule of his self. And most days, that was enough.

He sat atop the highest peak of an unclaimed island, feeling his molecules dance with the universe, gazing at the whirling, crashing, magnificent galaxies spinning above him. He thought about a book from Clockwork's tower that had caught his eye - the cover was black, but glinted with a hint of stars, of constellations he had never seen before. It claimed that at the center of every black hole lay a portal to the Ghost Zone.

As he stared, a portal formed, and then another. They crashed into each other, and the splash of ectoplasmic dust from their collision looked almost like the Pillars of Creation. The sound was music to his ears.

He had always dreamed of space.

Now he didn't have to.

* * *

**Prompt: "Black hole wormholes lead to ghost zone portals. Ghost zone Galaxies, maybe replicating the galaxies IRL; the ghost zone was space basically." - whosvladagain on tumblr**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!**


	3. Clueless

**TW: Canon Typical Violence (but with greater consequences), Suicidal Ideation, Broken Bones, Ectoplasmic Burns, Hospital, Electric Burns**

* * *

Danny should have known something was wrong the first time Jazz came home with a less than stellar grade. Rather than her usual cheery cry of "I'm home!", she stalked through the door, forgetting to close it on her way down the hall. Danny got up from his perch in the living room to close the door, then followed her down the hallway towards the kitchen. She had paused there, hand running through her hair, mouth frowning, eyes boring a hole into the paper she was holding.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay there, sis?"

She started, then held the paper to her chest, looking down, frown deepening. "I'm fine." She abruptly turned around, brushing past him to pace back down the hallway.

"You sure you're okay? Because I'm pretty sure that paper's smoking from how hard you're staring at it." Danny raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. "What is that, anyways?"

Jazz absentmindedly pulled her hand through her hair, pacing back towards the kitchen. "We got our tests back."

Danny nodded. "Nice. Get your A plus plus?"

Jazz froze mid-stride. The paper crumpled and shook in her hand. Her other hand had stopped midway down her hair and had tightened into a fist.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Danny asked, pushing himself up from the wall.

Jazz looked down at the ground. Then she looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I got a B, okay?" she shouted, her voice echoing in the hallway. Her backpack dropped to the floor and her test slid from her hand. She growled in frustration, bending down to pick them up.

"Woah, hey, you don't have to growl over that, a B's a great grade!" If there was one thing he hated more than her holier than thou attitude, it was when she was genuinely upset.

Jazz snorted. "For you maybe, you get B's and C's all the time!"

"Yeah, and there's nothing wrong with that!" Danny retorted, miffed.

"But that's _you,_ not _me!"_ Jazz stressed, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and stalking past him into the kitchen. "I'm supposed to be the straight A student – the perfect daughter who goes to Stanford and becomes a renowned psychologist! How can I do that if I start getting B's?"

"Wow, way to make a guy feel special," Danny muttered, following her into the kitchen. She had dropped her backpack by the table and was pacing around the island, one hand holding her test, the other alternating between turning a page and running through her already frizzy hair.

"Seriously, though, it's nothing to worry about." Danny put a hand on his sister's shoulder, stopping her mid-pace. "Stanford's not gonna care about one B. So the test was a little harder than you expected – so what? You put in the work, with all that time you've spent in the library studying – that's what matters. You did your best. That's all anyone can ask for."

Danny sent her a gentle grin, but she didn't reciprocate. Instead she bit her lip, looking down at their shoes.

"Danny, can I tell you something? And can you promise not to freak out or anything?"

Danny put his other hand on her other shoulder. "Yeah, of course, Jazz. What's up?"

Jazz took a deep breath. "Well, I–"

Then she gasped. She looked up, but not at him – her eyes darted around the room, before settling on the window.

"Jazz, what's wrong? What's going on?"

"I– I need to go to the library!" she blurted, yanking herself from Danny's grip and running out of the kitchen, down the hallway and out the door.

Danny followed after her. "But you forgot your–"

The door slammed shut.

"... Backpack."

* * *

Danny should have figured it out the first time he met the ghost girl – but, to be fair, when he finally did meet her, he was a wreck.

He had gone to schedule a meeting with Dr. Spectra for being late to class, _again._ He wasn't sure why, but ever since he'd started sessions with her – heck, maybe even before then, he was too depressed to tell – he'd felt miserable and dazed, and found it harder to get up in the morning to go to school, let alone get to class on time.

So here he was, skipping the beginning of the Spirit Week assembly, hoping to catch Dr. Spectra before she left for the day. Sam and Tucker were probably jealous – skipping even a part of any school-mandated assembly would be the highlight of his day, even if it was to meet with the school counselor.

But she'd helped him realize that maybe he'd always felt depressed, and the fact that it was worse now just meant he was getting it out in the open so it could be dealt with. It sounded about as reasonable as any of Jazz's psychobabble, so he went with it. _Maybe he should ask Jazz about this, she was into psychology and all that... but he shouldn't burden her with his problems, he was the older brother after all, and especially after her accident and with her troubles in school–_

Danny was about to knock on Dr. Spectra's door when he heard a cackle.

_That_ was weird.

Danny stopped short, hand on the door handle, listening. The voices were muffled, but it was clearly Dr. Spectra talking animatedly, probably to her assistant. He could only just make out the words.

"Oh, Bertrand, I'm gonna miss these kids. They're a waterfall of misery."

Bertrand murmured a reply Danny couldn't hear. Dr. Spectra laughed in response.

"Especially the Fenton kids! Teen misery is the nectar that keeps me looking fabulous. And those kids are like a walking spa treatment!"

Danny's blood ran cold. This doctor – no, this _hack_ – was _making_ him feel miserable? Was making his _sister_ feel the same way? His eyes widened, and his grip tightened on the door handle in anger.

Bertrand muttered something, and Spectra chuckled.

"You and your puns, Bertrand! Just because we're ghosts doesn't mean we have to spirit ourselves away! Certainly not before the grand finale!"

Danny had heard enough. He dug his other hand into his pocket, gripping the Fenton Lipstick Blaster before swinging the door open. He pointed the lipstick at Spectra, who was leaning against her desk.

"I don't know what your 'grand finale' is, but it stops here!"

Spectra and Bertrand looked up at Danny, still smirking. "Why, whatever do you mean?" Spectra cooed, putting her hand to her face.

"I heard what you were plotting, ghosts. And you're not going to get away with it! You're going back through the portal, and you're not gonna touch me or my sister again!" Danny tightened his grip on the lipstick.

Spectra glanced at Bertrand. Bertrand glanced at Spectra. Then they burst into peals of laughter.

"Oh, kid, this is too good! So you've discovered our little secret, so what? What are you going to do, throw lipstick at us? What's a boy like you doing with lipstick anyways?" Spectra wiped an invisible tear from her eye, getting up from the desk.

Danny smirked. "This."

He then let loose a blast from the lipstick blaster, hitting Spectra in the shoulder.

Spectra cried out, stumbling backwards into the desk, clutching her shoulder, grimacing in pain and anger. "Bertrand," she hissed. "Sic 'em!"

Bertrand lunged at Danny, transforming from a short tubby man to a green glowing cougar. Danny let loose a cry and another blast from the lipstick. It missed wildly. Bertrand knocked Danny down, pinning him to the ground. Danny held back a cry and tried to buck the ghost off of him. _Weren't ghosts supposed to be light?_ But Bertrand was heavy in this form, and he quickly pinned Danny's blaster hand down with his paw. He pressed down slowly, firmly, watching with joy in his eyes and his bared teeth as Danny squirmed and then screamed in pain, letting go of the blaster.

Bertrand flung the lipstick away, and in that moment Danny curled his injured hand into a fist and hit Bertrand in the eye. Bertrand recoiled from him with a yelp. Danny choked on a scream, grimacing against the flaring agony spreading across his knuckles. Oh god, the ectoplasm burned, even more than curling his hand into a fist did.

Suddenly free of the pressure, Danny flipped himself over and bolted from the doorway. He had bitten off more than he could chew. The blaster was just a few feet from him; if he could reach it, he could hold them back and call his parents, and they could help–

A cold hand grabbed his neck; nails dug into his pressure points. He tried to scream, but another hand, black as midnight and clawed, wrapped around his mouth and nose. He was dragged back into the room, saw Bertrand, smirking despite his black eye, close the door. Then he was forced to sit in the chair before the desk, forced to face the nightmare that had captured him.

Its form was like fire and knives, forged in darkness. Its edges were sharp, yet flickering, and they cut into his torso and arms as it wrapped itself around him like a snake. The top of its head flickered and waved, trailing behind its every movement. Its clawed hands wrapped over his head and around his face, forcing him to look into its eyes. The eyes were the worst – red like blood, glowing like embers, tinted with malice.

Then it spoke, and Danny realized with horror who it was.

"Aw, why are you afraid?" Spectra crooned. "Surely you knew what you were getting into when you decided to face us. Where's your brave face now, you stupid boy?"

She grinned, purple lips splitting to reveal pointed teeth. Danny shuddered, then winced in pain as she tightened her hold on him.

He _was_ stupid – stupid for opening that door, for starting a fight with things he didn't understand – hell, for trusting Spectra with his mental health in the first place! Stupid Fenton with his stupid anger and his _stupid pipe dreams and stupid grades and wow, you're just all around stupid aren't you, you stupid, stupid boy?_

Danny couldn't respond, couldn't find the will to respond. Everything was hazy and everything hurt and he just wanted the pain to end, just wanted it all to end, and _who would care if anything happened to a stupid boy like you? Your friends? Your sister? They're better off without you!_

His friends... his sister... he needed to... he was here because... if he let go now...

"L-Let go," Danny muttered, still hazy with pain and misery, still staring into those horrible, horrible eyes.

"What was that?" Spectra murmured, bringing her face closer to his, feasting on the anguish in his voice, in his eyes. "Are you ready to let everything go, stupid boy?"

Danny screwed his eyes shut. He needed... he needed to think, he needed the pain to go away, he needed it all – no, he needed the monster to go away, needed it to...

"Let– let go of me!" Danny cried, trying and failing to pull away from the monster's claws.

"Why would I do that?" Spectra crowed. She traced a line down Danny's face with one of her claws, drawing blood. "Your doubt, your misery – it's delicious."

Danny was fading. He couldn't keep his eyes shut, couldn't look away from those glowing red pits that promised pain and despair before the sweet release of death. He couldn't fight, couldn't get away, could only wait for the monster to devour him whole–

"Let go of him!"

The voice echoed in his head, cutting through the fog like a ray of sunshine. He felt something collide with him, felt his body hit the wall before collapsing to the floor, and it hurt like hell but not like the hell he'd felt before; it hurt like hell but he could _breathe_ again, and he did so, taking great gasps of air, and with every inhale the fog lifted a little bit more, until he could think thoughts other than death, feel emotions other than misery.

When he could remember what moving felt like, he slowly worked himself up to a sitting position, glancing around the room. It was empty. Undisturbed, save for himself and the chair knocked over in front of him. If not for the chair, it looked like Spectra and Bertrand might just be out for lunch.

Spectra. Danny couldn't repress a shudder, and then a wince as the cuts along his chest and arms and face made themselves known with sharp, stinging pain. What the hell kind of a ghost was that? Mom and Dad had _never_ said anything about ghosts that could do that. When he thought of ghosts, he thought of little green blobs with frowny faces. Not... whatever the hell Spectra was. He forced back another shudder. Maybe they were right all along. That ghosts were real, and that they were evil and to be avoided...

But then, who was that voice that had cut through the fog? Who had saved him?

He didn't know. But what he did know was that those ghosts were too much for one person to handle. He needed to find whoever had saved him, and help them before Spectra could–

He repressed another shudder. _Don't think about it._

He needed to help them stop the ghosts.

Which meant he needed to get up.

Right.

Danny pressed his hands against the wall, then hissed as his left hand shot fire up his arm. He looked at it and gulped – it didn't look good. A couple of fingers were bent the wrong way, and the skin was raw and blistered from punching Bertrand in the eye. He squeezed his eyes shut. Took a deep breath. There were worse things than a broken hand. He couldn't focus on that now. He cradled his hand into his chest, and with his other hand he dragged the chair closer to him, using it to lever himself up onto shaky legs.

Standing. That was a thing he could do now. Good.

He took a small step and nearly fell over, bracing himself once more on the chair.

Okay, walking was going to take a little bit.

He took a few moments braced against the chair, before pushing himself up. He took a few wobbly steps towards the door, feeling like a baby giraffe taking its first few steps. When he reached the door, he braced himself against it for a few seconds, before taking a step back and pulling the door open. He needed to get to his locker if he wanted to be of any help – the ghost weapons his parents insisted he took to school were there, as was the ghost tracker they'd nearly perfected. It still pointed to Jazz for some reason, but it was better than nothing. He just hoped it'd lead him true.

Getting to his locker didn't prove to be a problem. He was a little slower than he wanted to be, but he was for once grateful for the school assembly, which emptied the hallways of students and teachers.

Opening his locker posed no problem – he could do it just as well with his right hand as he could with his left.

Picking a weapon to go along with the Fenton Finder proved tricky. He needed something that actually worked, that he could use with one hand. Something he could tuck under his arm while he used the tracker. Something that could actually do something against Spectra and Bertrand. He wished he had an ectogun, wished that he hadn't drawn the line at guns in school. But maybe…

He remembered his Dad demonstrating it at the kitchen table. He remembered how it turned into armor and a blaster. Hoping against hope that his parents had given a functional prototype to him "for his protection" – with the days he'd been having, hell if he knew – he dug one-handed through the junk in his locker, searching for the Fenton Peeler.

Fenton Ghost Fisher... _no_... Fenton Grappler... _maybe_... Fenton Anti-Creep Stick? What was that doing there? _Aha!_

There, partially hidden behind the Fenton Blanket, the Fenton Peeler sat, green ports gleaming in the light from the hallway behind him. He picked it up, finagling it one-handed under his arm, before picking up the Fenton Finder. Shutting his locker door and turning the tracker on, he waited for it to download location data.

"Ghost 150 feet to your right."

Danny grinned and turned to his right, following the Fenton Finder down the hallway, occasionally leaning against the lockers as he fought waves of dizziness, but always forcing himself back up again. Whoever it was that saved him probably needed help, and he was the only one who could find them.

He turned down a side hall to the doorway that let out in the alley behind the gym. The gym was where the Spirit Week assembly was being held... if this thing led to Jazz, he was going to scream. And then maybe faint. And then berate her for skipping assembly when there were dangerous ghosts on the loose.

But a few feet from the door, his blood ran cold and he couldn't suppress a shiver at the harsh, cutting sound of Spectra's voice. He powered down and put down the Fenton Finder, pulling the Peeler out from under his arm as he crept to the door. Gently pushing it open, he caught the last of Spectra's spiel.

"... some creepy little girl with creepy little powers?"

"Both! Uh...neither! I don't know!" The voice he had heard before – the one that had cleared the fog for him – rang clear now, high and uncertain, echoing in the alleyway. He glanced out the door and saw Spectra in her nightmarish form, clutching the face of his savior in her claws.

She was a ghost. She glowed like a ghost; her white hair, done up in a ponytail, floated and flickered like a ghost; and when he thought about it, her voice echoed like a ghost. He wanted to shut the door and leave them to it – they were ghosts, and ghosts were evil, Spectra had proven that – but she had saved him. Why would a ghost bother with saving him?

Then an aura formed around both ghosts, growing weaker around the girl, and stronger around the nightmare. Spectra bared her fangs in wicked delight.

"You're a freak! Not a ghost, not a girl! Who cares for a thing like you?"

Danny gritted his teeth. His grip hardened around the Fenton Peeler. With his elbow, he slammed the door open.

"Hey! I don't know this girl, but I think she should get a second opinion!"

And he activated the Fenton Peeler.

Spectra dropped the ghost – the girl, she was just a kid, no older than his sister – as the armor formed around him, sprouting from his hand and engulfing his arm, then his torso, then his head and legs, with metal. It squeezed just a little too tight, and he grimaced in pain; but it held him up, held him steady, held his arm steady. Gritting his teeth, he fired.

The blast of green should have bowled him over, but the armor stood firm. Instead it expanded from the end of the blaster, a wave of green that threatened to blow out the knife-like flames of the monster's being.

And then it did – peeling the darkness away, revealing Spectra's human form beneath, still buffeted by the onslaught of green. And then it peeled that away too, unveiling a slightly older Spectra, lines in her face twisting as she screamed. Layer after layer shriveled from her form, each revealing an older, weaker Spectra, until there was nothing left but a withered husk of the ghost she used to be. Danny released the trigger.

"No! I am nothing without my youth!" the ghost cried, voice straining against its atrophied state.

Suddenly, a blast of blue-white light engulfed her, and she screamed again, distorting and stretching towards the source of it. Danny looked and saw the ghost girl, arms outstretched, holding the thermos Dad had thrown away. Her eyes blazed green, her face set in a determined expression, her feet spread and braced against the force of the thermos.

Then, as Spectra disappeared into the thermos, the ghost girl capped it, and everything suddenly went silent, all but the blood pounding in Danny's ears. He wondered briefly if the ghost girl heard blood pounding in her ears, then dismissed the thought. Ghosts were dead. Their hearts didn't pump blood, if they had hearts at all.

Danny pressed the button to shut down the armor, and it peeled off of him, making him think of the way Spectra's nightmarish armor had peeled off of her. He chuckled, saying, "Talk about having nothing within."

Then a wave of dizziness hit him, and his legs buckled. His vision blurred as the pain he'd been forcing back hit him all at once, and he collapsed.

"Danny!"

The voice echoed in his head, but it couldn't cut through the pain he was in. He ached everywhere, and his arms and torso and face stung with a dozen cuts and bruises, and his hand was on fire, and his head – oh god, his head _hurt_ like _hell._ He couldn't tell which way was up, could hardly _think_ over the pounding in his brain–

There was a bright flash of light, and he couldn't hold back a moan as it stabbed into his eyes. He squinted them shut for a second – it could only have been a second – but when he opened them there was a familiar shock of red hair, and then a face – Jazz's face – looking down at him. Her mouth opened and she said something, but he couldn't make out the words, could only stare as her hair floated around her head, forming a ring around it like a crown of flames. Her eyes burned a toxic green, almost glowing in the alleyway. Then he blinked and her face was gone, and red and blue and white surrounded him, switching between the colors too fast for him to keep track. He wanted to sit up, to look around and find Jazz again, but his body wouldn't do what he told it to do. Instead he closed his eyes, shutting out the confusing lights and the loud noises that wouldn't sort themselves into things that made sense.

As he faded from the world, a fragment of Jazz's voice caught up to him, echoing in his head like the ghost girl's. Funny, they sounded almost the same. He would have laughed if he had the strength, if the world weren't tilting and twisting around him.

"Hold on!" she had said.

_Hold on_

* * *

The first thing Danny noticed was the sound of beeping.

It began softly, echoing in the darkness, an almost comforting sound in the background of his mind. But as awareness crept into his being, the beeping grew louder, more distinct, climbing to the foreground of his mind, poking him and prodding him and urging him to wake up, _wake up, WAKE UP–_

He opened his eyes.

And squeezed them shut again as the white light bored into them, driving a spike through the front of his head. He hissed in pain, and the beeping increased in frequency.

"Danny?"

He felt something cold touch his hand, and flinched away instinctively, eyes flinging themselves open, then squinting against the harsh light and the sharp pain in his head. He tried to sit up, but felt something large push against his chest. A dull ache pressed into his chest, but it was nothing compared to the panic racing through his veins, the beeping growing louder and more urgent, _he was trapped, he couldn't get out, couldn't escape the monster that wanted to devour him whole–_

"Danny!"

"Danny, it's okay!"

Danny froze, and then relaxed at the sound of familiar voices – voices that meant safety and comfort, voices that meant the monster couldn't be here because they would have chased it away. He opened his eyes again and was met with a wall of orange, a pillar of it outstretched, ending in a black glove held against his chest.

He glanced to his right, and saw a mild teal color – the color of home and cookies and gentle hugs and forehead kisses – then looked up to see purple eyes with eyebrows knotted in worry, lips pulled down in a gentle frown.

"Dad? Mom?"

His voice was raspy, but his parents smiled down at him all the same, their heads haloed by the bright white light in the ceiling above him. Still squinting against the light and the pounding in his head, he asked, "Can you turn down the lights? They're making my head hurt."

His mom turned back, saying, "Jazz, could you – thanks, honey!"

The lights went out, and the spike in his head disappeared, leaving a dull ache in its wake. He sighed in relief, slumping back and rubbing his eyes. Or at least, he tried to rub his eyes – his mom grabbed his right hand, saying, "Oh honey, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

His left hand, however, was left free; but as he raised it into his line of sight, he stopped short.

His hand was bandaged, and two of his fingers were heavily bruised and splinted. He stared at his hand in dull confusion. _Was he in a hospital? What had–_

Then his hand began to shake as the memories rushed back. Bertrand pressing slowly into his hand until his grip on the blaster and his fingers broke. Spectra's body cutting into his own as it tightened around him, her claw dragging down his face as she–

He put his hand down, pressing his head back into the bed and squeezing his eyes shut. He didn't want to think about it – didn't want to think about those red eyes, bleeding with malice and glee, staring into his own, or the way his thoughts and emotions had bled and twisted at the whim of her words, or – _no, don't think about it – don't think–_

"Oh, honey!" He felt a warm weight upon him, and he opened his eyes. His mom's hair was in his face, her arms wrapped around him, holding him gently, but holding him close. His dad quickly followed, his huge arms wrapping around them both. Danny burrowed his head into the crook of his mom's shoulder, and she hugged him tighter. He turned his head and looked for Jazz – she was still by the light switch, one hand fiddling with the hem of her shirt, the other fisted in her pocket. Her eyes were trained on him, shining with unshed tears, expression uncertain. He smiled wearily, extending his right hand to her. Before he knew it, she was hugging him, too, holding his hand and burying her head into his shoulder. Her hand was cold, but not freezing the way Spectra's had been. Her grip pressed into the needle in his hand, but he squeezed it anyways, pressing his head into hers. His dad wrapped his arm around her as well.

Surrounded by his family, warm in their arms, he felt safe for what seemed like the first time in ages. What Bertrand and Spectra had done almost felt like a dream.

Almost.

_Stupid boy... who cares for a thing like you?_

He shuddered and held tighter to his sister's hand. Then his dad squeezed him harder, and he winced as pain flared in his chest.

"Jack, you're hurting him!" his mom berated, giving Danny a kiss on the forehead before pulling herself from the hug. Jazz and his dad let go as well, his dad sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sorry, Danno, I'm just... so proud of you, son!"

Danny stared in confusion at his dad, who wiped a tear from his eye and smiled.

His mom beamed down at him as well. "We're both so proud of you, Danny, and we're so glad you're alright."

Danny looked between his parents, still confused. "Um... proud? Why–"

"You kicked ghost butt, Danno! Just like your old man!" his dad proclaimed, chest swelling with pride.

"Jazz told us all about it! How you saved her from that horrible ghost–"

"And how you shredded that ghost with the Fenton Peeler! Created by me! Jack Fenton!"

"But–"

"You were so brave, sweetie, facing down three ghosts–"

"That's my boy! You got Fenton genes!"

"Wait–"

"_But_ next time be sure to call us before you confront them; we're the experts, and we don't want you to get hurt–"

"Plus you get to see your old man in action!"

"Okay, but–"

"We'll have to figure out just where that ghost girl got a Fenton Thermos, and how she knows how to operate it..."

"And then we can rip her apart molecule by molecule!"

"But not before a thorough dissection–"

Danny bristled. "The ghost girl saved my life!"

His mom and dad paused, a bit shocked by his outburst. Then his mom smiled gently at him.

"Oh honey, that concussion must have really done a number on you! Ghosts aren't helpful, and they don't save people's lives except to advance their own selfish desires."

"Ha! Imagine that, Mads, a ghost saving someone!"

Danny could only stare dumbfounded as his parents laughed. Then he spluttered, "But– but she did, she– can you please stop laughing?!"

His mom put her hand on his shoulder, her laughter dying down to a chuckle. "I'm sorry, sweetie, we weren't laughing at you. We were laughing at the concept of a helpful ghost!"

"But she did help me..." Danny muttered, looking down.

His mom sighed, still smiling, removing her hand. "Ghosts don't help people, sweetie. If they seem like they're helping, it's only to further their own selfish agenda."

His dad nodded enthusiastically. "And when we get our hands on that ghost girl, we'll figure out just what she wants, and everything there is to know about her!"

His mom beamed up at his dad, wrapping her arm around his waist. "But first – we need to fill out some paperwork!" she said, guiding his dad towards the door.

"Aw man, I hate paperwork!" his dad complained, pouting.

"We'll get fudge after we're done!"

"I love paperwork!" his dad cried enthusiastically, pulling his mom out the door.

"You kids stay safe in there!" his mom called back to them.

Then the door shut.

The silence was deafening after the whirlwind that was their parents. Jazz was still standing next to Danny, but her hands were bunched into the bottom of her shirt, her eyes boring a hole into the floor.

"So..." Danny said, trying to break the silence. He wanted to move his arms, but with the bandages on one hand and the needle in the other, he figured that was a bad idea. Instead he bent forward, trying to catch his sister's eyes.

Oh no. Bad idea.

Danny shot back into the bed, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for the vertigo to pass.

"Danny!" Jazz cried out in alarm. He felt her cold hands grip his arm, and he focused on them, tried to ground himself in the only sensation that wasn't spinning.

"Do you want me to call a nurse or something?" Jazz's hands loosened on his arm.

He thought about shaking his head, but decided that would be a bad idea, too. "No, I'm fine," he grunted out. "Just vertigo, it'll pass."

Jazz's hands settled on his arm, and Danny settled into the bed, riding out the tilt-a-whirl the world had become. When everything finally stopped spinning, he opened his eyes, carefully turning his head to look at Jazz.

Jazz was looking at him with worry on her face, but the moment he caught her eyes, she let go of his arm and turned her head down again, biting her lip. Danny sighed heavily.

"You know, I'm not gonna shatter or anything. It's just a concussion."

Jazz looked up, staring at him incredulously. "Just a concussion? And just lacerations that required stitches and just bruises and just a broken _and_ burned hand and–"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Danny rolled his eyes. Then shut them as another wave of dizziness overtook him.

"Still not gonna shatter," he gritted out.

"You sure you don't want me to–"

"I'm _fine,_ Jazz." Danny waved a hand in her general direction. "I don't think some nurse sticking a light in my eyes is gonna help anything."

There was a pause as Danny got his bearings. Then he heard Jazz shuffle in place, her hands digging into her shirt again. She was going to stretch it if she kept up that habit.

"Sorry," she whispered. Danny opened his eyes, glancing at her.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for."

Jazz turned around, pacing between the door and the bed, glaring at the floor.

"It's my fault you got a concussion, and it's my fault Spectra did what she did to you."

"Jazz, it's not–"

"No, it is!" She stopped mid-pace, fists by her sides, eyes glaring through him, glaring vivid green.

"I should have found out about them sooner! If I had, then you wouldn't have – and who knows what sort of psychological damage those monsters did to you!" Jazz then turned back to her pacing, throwing her hands in the air. "And to the whole student body! They're _not_ psychologists! They used psychological tools sure, but they used them monstrously and to the detriment of everyone they touched! They..."

Danny was frozen while Jazz went on her tirade. His mind was whirring, trying to process what he had seen. He knew his sister's eyes like he knew the back of his hand, and the toxic green irises that illuminated her face were not _them._

Nevertheless, they were _familiar._

Jazz's hair began to float around her head as if lightning were about to strike, and Danny felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck rise in response. Memories fractured by pain and disorientation bubbled up in his mind. Jazz's face above him, hair spread like a wildfire around her head, eyes burning green with worry. And another face, illuminated blue by the light of the thermos. Teeth bared in a grimace. Eyes aflame with determination.

"... and she said horrible things to Janet about their gender, I've never seen them so upset and uncertain! And I bet she's the reason why Johnny Barker ran out of class when Oedipus came up, she probably filled his head with Freud even though Freud's been largely disproven–"

"You're the ghost girl."

Jazz paused in her pacing, turning to face Danny. "Well, yeah. You saw me, right? Before – well – you saw me transform and–"

"Get out of her."

Danny had pushed himself into a sitting position, had felt his face harden into a glare.

"Wait, what?"

Her hair fell around her and her eyes blinked from toxic green to their familiar blue in her surprise. That didn't fool him, though – Mom and Dad had said ghosts could hide in anyone. This was no different, except that it was his sister, and it was the ghost girl. His hands curled into fists. Or at least, they tried to, before the bandages and splints stopped his left and the pain from the needle stopped his right.

"You saved me, so I'm not going to call Mom and Dad. But you need to get out of my sister, and you need to leave."

"Danny, it's me!"

"What do you mean, 'it's me'?" He scoffed. He wanted to cross his arms. He settled for pressing his hands into the bed instead.

"You're the ghost girl, and you're possessing my sister, and you need to leave her alone!"

"Danny, I'm Jazz! The ghost girl is Jazz is me!"

"Yeah?" Danny raised an eyebrow. He could do that much, at least. "Prove it. What did Jazz do to my dinosaur when she was four and I was five?"

"Dinosaur? What– oh, I know what you're talking about!" Jazz smirked, crossing her arms and cocking her hip. "First of all, it wasn't a dinosaur, it was your _adorable_ bunbun. And second of all, I made it cuter is what I did! It was plain and white and boring, and I gave it some much needed color!"

Danny blushed. "You made him into an atrocity is what you did!"

"Did not! I gave it all the colors of the rainbow!"

"You colored his _eyes red!_ It was creepy!" It was all he could do to refrain from waving his arms. Jazz had no such qualms.

"They turned pink when Mom put it through the wash! It was cute!"

"You mean creepy, because those eyes were lopsided and weird and haunted my nightmares!"

"If I call _Mr. Fluffy Munchkins_ creepy, will you admit I'm Jazz?"'

"Fine!"

"Fine! It was creepy!"

"And you're definitely Jazz!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Great!"

"Wonderful!"

"Splendiforous!"

"Absitively Posolutely Splendtacular!"

There was a beat of silence as they glared at each other.

Then Jazz's face wobbled, and Danny snorted, and they both broke down in laughter.

Danny couldn't help it – the whole situation was ridiculous. Here he was, trapped in a hospital bed, arguing with his sister over whether or not she'd turned his stuffed animal into a creepy monster _and_ whether or not she was a ghost who had saved him from a creepier monster.

Oh man. _His sister was a ghost._

His laughter took on a hysterical edge, but Jazz made no comment. Her laughter was bordering on hysteria as well, now that he thought about it.

But he needed this – they _both_ needed this – a good long laugh, after everything they'd been through, after everything that monster had done.

As his laughter died down to a chuckle, he felt lighter, despite the dull ache of his torso. He watched with a smile as Jazz wiped a tear from her eye, her own chuckles subsiding as she looked at him.

He sighed, flopping down onto the bed. Then he pushed himself back up into a sitting position, carefully turning his head to face Jazz.

"So... how does that work? Are you d– are you a ghost?"

She bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. After a moment, she said quietly, "I... don't really know. I have a heartbeat when I'm human, so I don't _think_ I'm dead, but... well, you've seen my other form." She looked up at him, quirking a smile despite the uncertainty in her eyes. "I'm basically a ghost in that form. I glow and float and can do ghost things when I'm a ghost. Oh, and I can do some of them when I'm human, too!" She raised her right hand, which faded out of visibility.

Danny's eyes widened in shock. It was one thing to half-remember his sister's glowing green eyes and floating hair; still another thing to see them when he was awake and lucid; but it was another thing entirely to see her do something ghostly on purpose, to watch as her hand faded to nothing. He reached out towards where he thought her hand was, and she took a step forward, putting her hand in his.

It was cool to the touch, but unmistakably a hand, palm squishing under his thumb. He pulled her hand towards him; adjusted his grip so that her fingers curled under his own.

Then he carefully uncurled her middle finger.

"Hey!" she cried, hand blinking visible as she pulled it back. He laughed at her expression, and at the incredulous tone in her voice.

"You know I had to!" he chuckled.

"Rude!" she pouted, sticking her tongue out. But she couldn't hold back a smile as she did so, the corners of her mouth fighting and losing against themselves to stay down.

He poked her in the cheek, and she finally let go and giggled. "You're so immature!"

"Well, someone's gotta be, with you being Miss Mature Smarty Pants over there!"

But Jazz looked back down at her shoes again.

"If I had been smarter, I could've saved you before she did that to you," she muttered. Danny could read the self-loathing in his sister's voice, and it broke his heart. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug.

"Jazz, you are the smartest person I know. If you hadn't figured it out, no one would've, and I'd have been a goner."

He felt Jazz shudder. She pulled away from him a bit, distraught eyes staring into his own. "You almost died! If I had found you any later she would have – and the concussion, that was _my_ fault, I shouldn't have hit you so hard – I'm just some loser freak, and I can't even save my own brother right and–"

Danny covered her mouth. He stared hard into her eyes, which had begun to leak.

"You're not a freak. And you're not a loser. You're a person with superpowers, which is pretty cool in my book! You're, like, the coolest person I know, and that was even before I knew you had superpowers." He smiled at her, removing his hand and putting it on her shoulder. "And because you're a person, you're not gonna be perfect, no matter how much of a perfectionist you are. It doesn't matter when you figured it out – what matters is that you _did,_ and you saved me when you did. I don't care about the concussion – a lot worse would have happened if you hadn't found me."

His sister stared at him, tears still falling from her eyes, bottom lip trembling. Then she sobbed and lunged at him, hugging his torso and burrowing her head into the crook of his neck. He held back a groan and held her tight, pulling his right arm as far as it would go and wrapping his left around her. He buried his head into hair, shutting his eyes. After a few moments, he was surprised to find it wet. He opened his eyes again, and his sight was blurry.

Crying. He was crying.

He shut his eyes again, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths.

He was alright. Jazz was alright. Everything was going to be alright.

"Hey Jazz," he whispered after a few moments of holding each other close.

"Yeah?" Her voice was still damp with tears.

"Thanks. For everything."

She chuckled wetly.

"No problem, big bro."

* * *

Danny supposed the very first thing that should have tipped him off was the accident itself. He'd never forget the sight of his little sister sprawled before the swirling, pulsing mass of green that wasn't there before, red hair covering her face, almost glowing white in the green light coming from the portal that had only ever been a sparking hole in the wall beforehand. He heard someone scream her name. Blinked and he was halfway down the stairs. Blinked again and he was kneeling in front of her, legs aching, throat raw. His hands shook as he moved the hair from her face, and he forced them to still as he held one of them in front of her nose and mouth, holding his breath as he waited for a sign of life–

There! Only just noticeable, but unmistakably there, a small exhale of air from her nose tickling his palm. He could have sobbed with relief, but he wasn't done yet, her foot was _inside_ that toxic radioactive green, and her arm – her arm was – he couldn't look away, could only stare at the raw flesh blistering in fractal patterns up her arm, disappearing at the shredded shoulder of her jumpsuit, _why was she in her jumpsuit she said she wouldn't be caught dead in that thing oh god please don't die–_

And suddenly he was shoved aside, heart pounding in his ears, pulsing out of tune with the light of the portal. He blinked and saw his parents, his dad a mass of orange clashing with the pulsing green, cradling Jazz in his lap; his mom a slip of teal blue and black, gently caressing the injured arm before turning to Danny and yelling something he couldn't process over the pounding in his ears. He blinked and his mom had disappeared, his dad standing up, his sister still cradled in his dad's arms. He blinked again and he was walking up the stairs, following the mass of orange in front of him, leaving that toxic pulsing glow in the basement behind him.

He blinked again and heard sirens, loud in his ears, _how had he missed them approaching;_ saw the kitchen awash in cycling blues and reds and whites. His dad was carrying his sister to the door, to a bunch of people in uniforms, to the ambulance he could see just beyond his dad's hulking figure. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, _they don't bring ambulances for dead people–_

He blinked again. He was in a waiting room, sitting between his dad, who was glaring a hole in the wall and tapping a divot into the floor with his foot; and his mom, who was chewing on her lip, worrying her hand through Danny's hair. Danny leaned into his mom, closing his eyes, letting the feeling of her fingers gently untangling the knots in his hair wash over him.

_He saw his sister, sprawled on the ground, pulsing green light casting her in a sickly glow, fractal blisters climbing up her arm–_

Danny tensed, eyes shooting open, pulling away from his mom.

"Honey, are you okay?" she asked in a hushed tone, resting her hand on his shoulder.

Danny nodded. He tried to speak, choked, cleared his throat. Tried again. The words came out in a hoarse whisper.

"Will Jazz be okay?"

His dad's foot paused, and then tapped a little harder, a little faster. His mom's hand on his shoulder tightened.

"She's in the ICU. We have to wait for the doctor, but– we don't know, sweetie." Her voice wobbled. "I'm sorry, but we don't know."

Danny's eyes blurred. He blinked, rubbed at them, and was surprised to find tears. His mom wrapped an arm around him, leaning her head on his shoulder. His dad turned and engulfed them both in a hug, burying his head into Danny's hair. A sharp pain squeezed his chest, and suddenly he was sobbing, unable to keep back the flood of emotion coursing through him. He couldn't quite process it all, but there was one thought on his mind, echoing in his head: _Please don't die._

_Please don't die._

* * *

"I'm going to school! Bye!"

Danny heard the front door slam as he dug into his scrambled eggs. Today was a rare day when his parents were between projects. His mom made the best scrambled eggs (when she wasn't testing some new ecto-powered appliance): mixed with parmesan cheese and pico de gallo, and spiced and cooked to perfection. He was going to savor this breakfast.

Or at least, he _would have,_ if he hadn't caught sight of Jazz's Fenton thermos on the table.

Danny nearly choked on his mouthful of eggs, but he quickly swallowed it. Shoveling the rest of the eggs on his plate into his mouth, he got up from the table, snagging the thermos in one hand and his backpack in the other. If he was fast enough, he could catch her before she took off–

"Danny, what's the hurry?"

He turned around in the doorway to see his mom poking her head out of the kitchen, a slice of toast in hand.

"I–"

"Danny! Chew and swallow before you talk to anyone, young man!"

Danny swallowed the large clump of eggs in his mouth. So much for savoring his breakfast.

"I need to give Jazz her- her lunch! She forgot it!"

"But–"

"Okay Mom going to school now love you bye!"

Danny turned around and ran out the door, slamming the door shut and jumping down the steps. He hoped he wouldn't get a lecture later.

He glanced down the street and caught sight of Jazz flying away from him, hair and ghostly tail whipping back and forth in the breeze. He ran towards her, waving his hand in the air.

"Hey Ja– Phantom! Hey Phantom!"

Despite her distance from him, Jazz stopped and turned around. She flew down to the street, looking around before transforming, her tail splitting into legs a few feet above the ground. Danny marveled at the ease with which she transformed in front of him. Only a month ago she had been reluctant to transform in front of him, even when they were alone. Now, as long as no one who didn't know was around, it came as natural to her as breathing.

Jazz alit on the asphalt completely human, running a couple steps before coming to a stop and frowning up at him.

"Danny, what are you doing?" she hissed. "You can't just shout my name in the middle of the street!"

"First of all, I didn't shout your name, I _almost_ shouted your name. There's a difference. Second of all, you forgot your thermos."

Her eyes widened in surprise as he handed her the thermos. "Oh, uh, thanks!"

"No problem, sis."

They walked together in comfortable silence for a bit. Jazz frowned at the sidewalk, muttering under her breath. Something about... signs? And co-signs? And tans... Oh, he knew what this was about.

"You've got a math test today, right? How'd studying for that go?"

Jazz continued to mutter under her breath before answering him, still staring at the sidewalk.

"Pretty good, actually. Spike's been helping me a lot, he's _really_ good at math. Says he might be a math teacher or a professor someday."

"Cool. Maybe you'll see each other at the same university some day!"

They stopped at the end of the block, waiting for Danny's friends to join them before they walked the rest of the way to school. There were a few cars passing by. An old lady was walking her dog on the other side of the street.

"Oh, I doubt it," Jazz said, looking up at Danny. "I'm going to Stanford, and he's set his sights on–"

Jazz gasped. Her face turned upwards and her eyes searched the sky. Danny, meanwhile, searched the street for somewhere to hide, somewhere she could transform and not be seen. The nearest alleyways were usually occupied, they'd learned that the hard way. If they wanted an alley that probably didn't have anyone in it, they'd have to run half a block–

Wait, there! There were Sam and Tucker, making their way down Birch Road, talking animatedly. He saw Sam punch Tucker in the arm, and Tucker grab his arm in (probably) mock hurt before pushing Sam. Danny grabbed Jazz's arm and booked it towards them.

"What– hey!" Jazz cried, stumbling before turning around and keeping pace with him.

"Hey guys! Group hug!" Danny shouted down the street. Sam and Tucker turned their heads to him before running towards them as they processed what he'd said.

"Danny, what are you– oh!" Jazz spotted Sam and Tucker, and raced ahead of Danny to meet them.

They all four met in the middle of the sidewalk, Jazz running into Sam and Tucker's embrace before being glomped from behind by Danny. When she was sure she was covered, she transformed, rings of light hidden by her brother and their friends. She then slipped invisible and intangible, the only sign of her a cold spot in between them – one which left them with a quickly whispered "Thanks, guys!"

The trio held onto the hug for a moment more, only letting go when Jazz turned visible in the sky, searching for her quarry.

"I AM THE BOX GHOST!"

Jazz groaned, turning around to face the ghost.

"Come _on,_ Crate Creep! If you ruin my no tardy streak, I'm leaving you in the thermos for a week!"

"YOUR PUNY NON-BOX-LIKE CYLINDRICAL CONTAINER CANNOT CONTAIN–"

Jazz threw an ectoblast at him.

The Box Ghost gulped and fled, Jazz chasing after him.

Danny smiled up at them, shaking his head. It was just the Box Ghost. She could handle it.

"Do you think she does that on purpose?" Sam asked, pointing towards Jazz with her thumb as the trio continued their walk to school.

"Does what on purpose?" Danny asked, glancing at Sam.

"Oh, you know," Tucker said, pulling out his PDA. "Call the Box Ghost 'Crate Creep' and Skulker 'Ghost X' and all that j–"

"Tucker, finish that sentence and I will hit you."

Danny laughed as Tucker dodged from Sam's reach. "I think she just doesn't want to admit she was wrong about their names. Either that, or she likes the names she came up with for them more than the names they came with."

"Well, you gotta admit, 'Lady Lunchabelle' has a certain ring to it that 'The Lunch Lady' lacks," Tucker quipped.

They all three nodded seriously, before breaking into laughter.

Then Sam said, "Have you seen the trailer for that new superhero movie? I know it's normally not my thing, but the protagonist was so cool! She..."

And so the three of them continued, their discussion moving from superhero movies to movies with secret identities to secret identities in general. They were crossing Elm Street when the topic turned to Jazz's secret identity.

"How did it take you so long to figure out your own sister?" Sam asked Danny, lightly shoving him in the arm. "I figured her out within the first week!"

"Yeah, dude, it only took me like two weeks to find out – she 'becomes ghostly' everywhere." Tucker tapped a few buttons on his PDA, before looking up at Danny. "She's lucky she has me to scrub all the security cameras!"

Danny winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I should talk to her about that."

Sam continued as if Danny hadn't spoken. "It took you over a month to figure it out, and only because she told you! You gotta admit – you're pretty clueless when it comes to these things!"

Danny didn't respond. He rubbed the back of his hand – it was still rough from where he'd punched Bertrand, but he was familiar with it now – familiar with the way it dipped and whorled around his knuckles. He thought about Jazz's eyes – both their teal blue, and their glowing green. So different, yet both familiar to him now as well – both burned with the same curiosity, and both lit with laughter in the same way. Both meant his sister.

He thought about how her voice had echoed in the hallway the day she had gotten her first B, and the way it echoed in his head when she saved him from Spectra. He thought about how white her hair had seemed in the light of the portal, splayed limply around her head. And he thought about how white it was now, tied behind her head but flickering like fire, as she floated across the sky, giving them a wave before flying in the direction of school.

"Danny? You okay?" Sam put a hand on his shoulder, and he started.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I was just thinking." He chuckled, watching as his sister did a vertical loop in the sky. "I am pretty clueless, aren't I?"

* * *

**Prompt: "Danny/Jazz swap AU: Jazz is the half ghost and Danny is the older sibling. Go wild on your take of how this would all play out." - octolingkiera on tumblr and ao3**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!**


	4. Five Minutes and Forty Two Seconds

**TW: Character Death (Not Permanent Though), Mild Suicidal Ideation, General Creepiness**

* * *

Five minutes and forty two seconds.

That's how long the man had been dead on the operating table, according to the doctors.

It was supposed to be a simple surgery. Relatively noninvasive, but just invasive enough that they had needed to put him under for it. But something to do with an allergic reaction to the anesthesia or something or other had caused some complications.

That's what they'd called it – "complications". We are required by law to inform you that there were some _complications_ during your surgery. An undisclosed allergic reaction resulted in some _complications._ Some _complications_ with the surgery killed you for nearly six minutes.

Whatever. In the end, it just meant more paperwork for the man to fill out. One more thing on the list of his medical _complications_ to remember.

A few years ago, he might have freaked out over the implications. He was legally dead for several minutes, after all. But he lived in Amity Park, where the dead walked and wreaked havoc among the living on a daily basis. It was hard to worry about being dead when he knew he'd probably get up the next day. And he wouldn't have to go to work. And he'd be able to fly wherever he wanted. He swore, ghosts had it lucky. If not for his own laziness and his attachment to good pizza and fine wine, he'd probably be a ghost himself.

The world said he could rest when he was dead. He sighed. Well, he had gotten five minutes and forty two seconds of rest. He supposed he could wait a bit longer before he could relax for good.

* * *

Five minutes and forty two seconds.

It was a miracle the patient had survived.

Upon cardiac arrest, the surgeon barked for someone to bring in the ectopsychologist. You couldn't be too careful in a place like Amity Park General. And as they had discovered in the years since ghosts had started appearing, a psychologist on hand in the hospital was a must.

* * *

Thirty three seconds. A wisp of ectoplasm began to form above the doctors attempting to resuscitate the patient. The nurse spotted it first, calling its attention to the surgeon.

"Keep an eye on it," she told the nurse. "Let me know when it forms a mouth."

The nurse nodded his assent, eyes fixed upon the wisp.

* * *

Fifty seven seconds. The wisp had grown into a mass about nine inches in diameter, its glow giving the room and the doctors and the patient a sickly green tinge.

* * *

One minute and three seconds. The mass had formed a mouth. As the nurse opened his mouth to tell the surgeon so, an unearthly groan emanated from the mass, making the surgery team pause for a second as they collectively suppressed a shudder.

"Mouth formed, ma'am."

"Alright. If it speaks or moves, keep it talking until the ectopsychologist gets here."

* * *

One minute and fourteen seconds. The mass stopped groaning. It opened hazy red eyes, staring up at the ceiling.

_What the..._ The words were garbled, as if heard through a filter of static and noise.

"Hello," the nurse said. His voice was low and calm, soothing to the ears of the living. But the ectoplasmic mass didn't seem to notice him - it just remained above them, staring at the ceiling.

This was typical of newly formed ectoplasmic masses in the hospital, though - they rarely noticed or understood their surroundings at first, however loud or chaotic they may have seemed to the living. More often than not, they fixated upon a single feature of the room - the rhythm of the heart monitor, a crack in the ceiling, or the reflection of light on a saline bag were common fixations. The trick was to keep them fixated until the ectopsychologist got there.

* * *

One minute and forty three seconds.

_I should... go to work..._ The mass began to float towards the ceiling.

"Hey!" the nurse cried, snapping his fingers. The mass stopped. Slowly turned around to stare at the nurse's fingers. He snapped them again as the ectoplasmic mass began to turn towards the ceiling, directing its attention back to his fingers.

* * *

Two minutes and fifty seven seconds. The nurse was still snapping, and the ectoplasmic mass was still staring. The nurse had started to hum a tune to go along with it – it sounded like a shanty of some sort, with the way it swung and swayed and repeated. The surgical assistant was bouncing to the beat. The surgeon was not.

"Where the hell is the ecto– oh, here you are." The surgeon glanced up as the door burst open, a short, skinny woman with thick glasses bustling through, still pulling on her gloves.

"Yes, I'm here. And I see you've kept the patient here as well, good good." The ectopsychologist's voice was high and reedy – jarring to those in the room who were living, but it captured the attention of the ectoplasmic mass.

_The... patient?_ The hazy red eyes of the ectoplasmic mass were staring at her, transfixed and curious.

"Yes, the patient. That's you. Do you know where you are?"

_No... but... I need to go to work..._ The ectoplasmic mass began to turn back towards the ceiling.

"No, hun, you took the day off, remember? For the surgery?" The ectopsychologist took a step closer, and her reedy voice echoed in the room. The ectoplasmic mass fixated upon her once more.

_Oh... yeah... the surgery... that went well, right? Just a simple procedure they said..._

"Well, not exactly. You see, the surgery's still happening. You're having what we call an out of body experience. And we need you to move your consciousness back into the body."

The ectoplasmic mass stared confusedly at the ectopsychologist for a moment as it processed what she had said.

_Still... happening?_

"Yes. You are having an out of body experience. We need you to move your experience back into your body to continue the procedure."

The ectoplasmic mass stared at her for a minute.

_Oh... okay._

* * *

Four minutes and fifty eight seconds. The ectoplasmic mass began to float towards the body of the patient.

* * *

Five minutes and ten seconds. The ectoplasmic mass touched the chest of the patient. It hesitated for a moment, before beginning to phase into the patient's body.

* * *

Five minutes and thirty seven seconds. The ectoplasmic mass had disappeared completely into the body of the patient.

* * *

Five minutes and forty two seconds. The heart monitor began to beep regularly. The nurse let out a sigh of relief. The surgeon closed her eyes for half a moment, before returning to her work.

"My work here is done," the ectopsychologist stated firmly, before walking out the door.

* * *

Danny's ghost sense went off as he was passing the city bus stop. That was weird. He kept walking, but searched the skies. Maybe a ghost was flying above him on its way to somewhere else. His head turned upwards, he didn't notice the man walking towards the bus stop until he had bumped shoulders with him.

"Oh, sorry du–"

"Watch where you're going, kid!"

The man glanced back at him in annoyance, and for an instant they seemed to glint bright red. But then the man looked away with a huff, still walking towards the bus stop.

Danny stared at the man's back for a moment, perplexed. _Did he just–_

"Wow, that was rude." Sam raised an eyebrow at the man's back.

"Yeah, man, you can't, like, expect people to pay attention all the time!" Tucker's nose was buried in his PDA.

Danny turned back around, grabbing Sam's arm to turn her around with him, and Tucker's arm to keep him from walking into the street.

_It was probably a trick of the light or something._

* * *

**Prompt: "WHY DOES NO ON TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE FACT THAT AFTER DEATH PEOPLE HAVE SEVEN MINUTES OF BRAIN ACTIVITY AND A DUDE HAS LITERALLY DROWNED AND BEEN DEAD FOR LIKE A DAY AND WAS RESUSCITATED AND LIVED? IT COULD EXPLAIN PORTAL OR MAKE SOME HECKA GOOD ANGST OR HAPPY ENDING..." - whosvladagain on tumblr**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!**


	5. Sitting in a Tree

"Whatcha doin?"

Wes screamed and dropped his camera, the strap jerking into his neck. He screamed again as he lost his balance on the branch he had been clinging to, slowly slipping from it, _he was at least 50 feet in the air he was dead if he fell– _

"Woah, there!" Wes felt a tug on the back of his shirt, and suddenly he was in a position where he could wrap his limbs around the branch, camera still swaying from his neck.

"You okay there?"

_"What... the hell?"_ Wes cried between deep breaths.

"Um, I think you mean, _thank you for saving my life."_

"I wouldn't have _needed_ saving if you hadn't _snuck up on me!"_ Wes still clung to the tree with his legs and one hand, but he used the other hand to pull up his camera, inspecting it for damage. "Who the hell sneaks up on someone this high up in a _tree?_ How'd you even get up here anyways?" Satisfied that his camera hadn't been harmed, he carefully worked himself into a sitting position against the trunk of the tree and looked up to see who had nearly knocked him out of it.

The girl was small. In her baggy jeans, baggy hoodie, and oversized beanie, she looked even smaller than she probably was. She was sitting in the crook of a branch that was way too small for Wes to sit in, but it was the perfect size for her. Her black hair was messily tied in a ponytail that stuck out from under her beanie, and her blue eyes peered down at him.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You know, I could ask _you_ the same question."

Wes narrowed his eyes at her. "I climbed. Your turn."

"I flew."

Wes sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't have time for this. He carefully leaned against another branch, bringing his camera up to his face with one hand, focusing the lens with the other.

After a minute of silence, the girl spoke up again.

"You know, you still didn't answer my first question."

Wes rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Oh, come on, don't give me the silent treatment! I saved your life!"

Wes could hear the pout in her voice, but he ignored her. This was too important to entertain some kid. He needed to focus.

Unfortunately, focusing both the camera and his mind became harder when she started swaying her feet. Which rocked the top of the tree. Which bounced the branch he was leaning against for stability.

"Look, if I tell you what I'm doing here, will you quit bouncing the tree?" Wes snapped up at her, pulling his head away from the camera.

She grinned sweetly down at him, feet still swinging. "What, you mean like this?"

"Yes, _exactly_ like this!" Wes waved his arm at her legs, but then quickly grabbed back onto the branch when he felt himself losing his balance.

"Okay." Her legs were still swinging.

"Then could you _stop?"_

"You still haven't answered my first question."

Wes groaned loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose again. Between Fenton and this girl, he was going to have permanent marks there.

"What even _was_ your question?"

The girl leaned back, and then leaned forward, swaying the top of the tree. Wes grabbed hold of the branch he'd been leaning on. As she leaned towards him, smile on her face, she asked, "Whatcha doin?"

"Ugh, I'm staking out Phantom, okay? Now will you please _stop?!"_

The girl stopped her swinging, instead opting to pull herself up to a standing position on her branch.

"Phantom?" She looked around, scanning the sky and the ground. "I don't see him. He's probably somewhere else."

She hopped back into a sitting position, making the tree shudder. "Oops, sorry," she said not very apologetically. "Why are you looking for him here?" she asked, wide eyed.

Wes rolled his eyes again, turning back around and readjusting his camera. "Phantom always flies into that alley after school. This tree is a little far, but with my camera, it has the perfect vantage point to catch him in the act."

The girl leaned forwards, moving the top of the tree. Wes sighed and readjusted his angle.

"What do you mean, 'catch him in the act'? Are you gonna, like, take a picture of him picking his nose or something?" The girl giggled at her own joke, leaning back. Wes rolled his eyes again.

"Yeah, _or something,"_ he said. "Now would you please stop moving? I'm kinda _busy_ here!"

The girl huffed. "Fine, whatever, boring-pants."

There was a full minute of blissful silence. Wes re-readjusted his camera angle, changing the focus. Why wasn't Phantom here yet? Did he just have to fight some other ghost the day Wes had called in sick so he could get here early enough to guarantee good pictures of the transformation? _He should be here soon–_

"Hey, why do hot dogs come in packages of ten and hot dogs buns come in packages of eight?"

Wes grit his teeth before turning to face the girl. _"Obviously_ so they can make you buy more hotdogs and buns when you run out of them! Now would you _leave me alo–"_

"Oh look, there's Phantom!"

Wes turned around, fumbling with his camera. There _was_ Phantom, now he just needed to get into position, readjust the focus–

The girl leaned on the branch he was bracing himself against, straining as if to get a better look. The branch leaned under her weight as a bright flash of light lit the alleyway – the transformation! He pressed down the shutter, listened as his camera took a burst of pictures. He then pulled back from the branch, frantically scrolling through the pictures to see if he'd caught anything.

Nothing but red brick wall.

He glared up at the girl who had ruined his shot at catching Phantom in the act of transforming to Fenton. Cradling his camera with one hand, he raised his finger in the air with the other and opened his mouth to shout – he didn't know what, he just knew that this girl had destroyed his chance at restoring his reputation–

"No wait, it's just my cousin Danny!" the girl exclaimed. "See you later, Wes!"

She grinned cheekily, saluting before leaning back from her perch in the tree, falling headfirst towards the pavement below. Wes could only stare as she fell – _what the hell was she doing, she was going to crack her head on the pavement–_

But then, she disappeared. Vanished from sight. Like a ghost.

Wes stared at the point where she'd vanished. _How did she know my name? How did she–_

But then he heard her voice, distant and shouting, but distinctly hers.

"Danny!"

He whipped around, staring at the sidewalk across the street, where the girl had wrapped Danny Fenton, bane of his existence, in a hug.

"Cuz! What're you doing here?" Danny laughed, grinning down at her.

"Oh, I was in the neighborhood! Hey, what's for dinner?"

As Danny grabbed her hand and turned to walk down the sidewalk, the girl turned her head and smirked up at the tree. At Wes. She finger gunned, and he could swear her eyes and the tip of her finger flashed green. Then she turned away.

Wes could only stare as they walked down the sidewalk. His eyes bulged. He saw red. He felt something build inside of him. And then it erupted in a single screech screamed into the sky.

_"FENTON!"_

* * *

**Prompt: "Wes meets Dani for the first time." - reallydumbdannyphantomfics on tumblr  
**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!**


	6. Thank You

_To Sam:_

_I don't know where I'd be without you. You push me, pretty hard sometimes; but you push me in the right direction. Your strength and conviction inspire me to be the hero you see in me. Without you, I wouldn't be half the hero - no, half the person - I am today. Thank you so much, Sam._

_I'll never forget_

_Thank you._

_To Tucker:_

_Dude, you've been my best friend since before I can remember. You stuck with me through thick and thin - bullies, ghost fighting, even hospitals! Even when it scared the crap out of you, you were there for me. I'm sorry I wasn't always there for you. You remind me that there's more to life than ghost fighting and school. Thanks for everything._

_To Jazz:_

_Jazz, you are the best big sister a guy could ask for. You've always been there for me, from putting bandaids on my scraped knees when I was little to beating back mutant turkeys at Thanksgiving to making sure I have everything I need to beat back ghosts. You're my rock, Jazz - when I need to talk something out, or when I need a shoulder to cry on, I can always come to you. Thank you for being my big sis._

_To __Team Ph_

_To The Specter Detectors:_

_What would I do without you guys? You keep me sane. You always have my back, even when I don't have yours. You're always there for me. And you know when I need pushing, and when I don't. I'd probably be dead like a gazillion times over if it weren't for you. And even if I miraculously "survived", I'd be super stressed and sad and alone without you guys._

_Clockwork says I have to wrap this up. I wish I had more time. But the Ghost Zone needs a King, and he says he's stalled for me as long as he could._

_Tell mom and dad I love them._

_I don't know what'll happen or what I'll become or if you'll need to take me down. If you do, go to Clockwork for help. But whatever happens, this isn't your fault. I have to do this. For everyone._

_I love you guys so much. Never forget that._

_Love,_  
_Danny_

Jazz read the letter again. The paper shook in her hands.

Then she ran down the stairs to call Sam and Tucker and turn on the Specter Speeder.

She hoped she wasn't too late.

* * *

**Prompt: "Thanks – Sam and Tucker and Jazz do so much to help that Danny isn't sure how he'd still be alive (er, half alive) without them. He wonders how he could ever thank them as much as they deserve" - sapphireswimming on tumblr and ffn**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!**


	7. Accident

**TW: Major Character Death**

* * *

He didn't mean to. Everything was moving so quickly and she was on his tail and that blast he narrowly avoided threw rubble _everywhere_ and he only threw that ectoblast back at her to put some distance between them but it went too high and hit some of the rubble and exploded it around them and some of it clogged the engines in her sled and by the time he knew what was happening she was halfway to the ground.

And he tried, he really _really_ tried to catch her, but he was just a bit too slow and it was like Emma Stone hitting the ground in that movie except this wasn't Emma Stone this was _Valerie_ and this wasn't a movie this was _far too real_ he could smell the dust settling and the ectoplasm burning and the blood leaking from her suit even if he couldn't see it yet and he could see her eyes through her visor staring at him in permanent hatred and fear and oh god she was dead _she was dead Valerie was dead–_

Ectoplasm formed above her body – a wisp at first, but slowly growing to form a ball, and then a human form on a two-pronged sled.

"V–Valerie?" he asked, his eyes wide, wiping away glowing tears.

She opened her eyes. Looked at her glowing arms. Then looked down at her body.

"Am I... dead?"

Then her eyes turned to Danny. They burned red with hate.

_"You..."_ she hissed. Her voice echoed, and it was the most terrifying sound Danny had ever heard. Red ectoplasm formed around her balled fists.

_"I am going to hunt you for all of eternity!"_

* * *

**Prompt: "Logically, Danny knew that ghosts are dead people. He just didn't expect someone close to him to become one. (TW: death)" - reallydumbdannyphantomfics on tumblr**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!**


	8. Dichromatic

The first time Danny Fenton died, the world turned gray.

The toxic green faded to blazing whites as Danny's screams faded into the hum of the portal, and Sam and Tucker knew.

Their best friend – their _soulmate_ – was dead.

And it was their fault.

They clung to each other, Tucker sobbing, Sam quietly crying, unable to tear their eyes away from the monstrosity that had taken their friend.

And then a hand emerged from the portal, clutching the side.

They both screamed, clinging to each other tighter, pulling each other away from the portal as a figure as black and white and gray as their surroundings emerged from it, stumbling against its side.

"Wha..."

Then the figure collapsed. Bright rings of light formed around it, splitting in two. And as they split, color returned to the world.

"DANNY!"

* * *

After the accident, colors were never the same for the trio.

Sam noticed it first. Tucker's beret seemed a bit less vibrant than it had been before, and his shirt a little more green. The purple she had loved now seemed more blue than purple now, and white light took on a light blue hue.

When she admitted this to Tucker, he told her that colors had changed for him, but in a different way. Sam's trademark purple seemed more red to him, not blue. His own clothes seemed the same to him, but Danny's blue eyes seemed more green than they had been before, and the white light of school seemed more yellow.

They both agreed on one thing, though. Green had become a much more vivid color for them both.

When they talked to Danny about it, he seemed surprised and offput, but also a little relieved. He had thought the color changes were just him. But unlike his friends, green had dimmed in vibrancy for him. Tucker's yellow sweaters seemed more red to him, and but for the green in her skirt, Sam's outfit remained unchanged. The white of Danny's shirt, however, took on a magenta hue.

It was Tucker who connected the dots, and only then after learning about the primary colors of light in science. The diagram made everything click: Sam had lost some of the red in her vision, making purples seem more blue, and yellows seem more green, and whites seem light blue. Tucker had lost some of the blue in his, making purples seem more red, and light blues seem more green, and whites seem more yellow. And Danny had lost some of the green in his vision, making yellows seem more red, light blues seem more blue, and whites seem more magenta.

When he excitedly told Sam and Danny about what he'd learned, Sam was fascinated, and Danny relieved. They didn't have an explanation, but they could identify a pattern. And that was better than nothing.

* * *

The first time Danny went ghost, the colors the Sam and Tucker were missing to some extent shut down completely.

Tucker's world became a wash of blues and blue-greens and pinks and reds; Sam's a mix of blues and golds and browns.

Danny, however, had a completely different experience. Rather than the blues and tans of deuteranopia, he saw the world in vivid greens. Green stained the sky and colored the ground below. Yellow greens made up the humans and animals he saw; blue greens dominated the ghosts.

The trio could only stare at the world around them, and then at each other, when the world changed color with the flash of Danny's rings of light.

It was then that they knew their world would never be the same again.

* * *

**Prompt: "Soulmate AU- you see color for the first time when you touch your soulmate for the first time, and the world fades to black and white when they pass. When Danny goes ghost, how does this affect his soulmate?" - quishaphantom on tumblr; quishaweasley on ffn**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!**


	9. Summons

Dash wasn't what you'd call a _library_ sort of guy. He preferred to leave the reading to the nerds he beat up to keep them in line and make them do his homework. But there were just some things he couldn't designate to a nerd. There was some research he had to do himself, if he didn't want the word to get out on what he was looking into.

He definitely didn't want to get caught looking up spooky ooky stuff like that goth freak Fenturd was dating.

So he wore his darkest hoodie, and he kept himself hunched to disguise his posture, and he got to work.

After about 15 minutes of searching, he got bored. Just how many books did a library have, anyway? How did anyone find anything in a place like this?

After five more minutes of riffling through shelves, pulling books off the shelves and leaving them on the tables when they didn't have what he wanted, he was ready to give up. He was about to slam closed what felt like the millionth book on fishing when he heard a voice.

"Can I help you?"

He did _not_ squeak as he turned around because squeaking was unmanly and totally not cool. Instead he turned around suavely, completely and totally cool, without knocking over any books whatsoever.

"What-" he cleared his throat, deepening his voice to disguise it. "What're you talking about?"

The librarian eyed the books that he definitely hadn't knocked down just now, before saying, "You seem to be looking for something. If you tell me what it is, I can help you find it."

Dash considered his options. They weren't many. He could keep searching for the right book, which was boring as heck. Or he could have this librarian person take him there, and he could find the book he needed and get the heck out of here.

It really wasn't much of a choice.

Dash nodded his head, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. In his deep disguised voice, he said, "Do you have anything on summoning ghosts?"

The librarian raised an eyebrow at him. "Our occult section is over there, but how about I help you find-"

"Okay, great, thanks!" Dash said, tearing past the librarian to go take a look at where they'd pointed. He heard the librarian sigh as they stooped to pick up the books he had definitely not dumped on the floor when he definitely wasn't startled. It was only a few books, and besides, this was their job. They could handle it.

Dash began pulling out books at random, tossing them aside when they weren't what he wanted. Vampires? _No._ Witches? _Nah._ Ghouls? He didn't know what those were, but they started with the same letters as ghosts - maybe he was getting closer! Zombies? Cool, but not what he was looking for.

_Aha!_ Ghosts! And specters! And spirits and such! And a bunch of words he didn't know that he figured meant ghosts! Who knew there were so many words for ghost?

He pulled out a stack of books and set them on a nearby table. Man, there were so many books! How was he going to get through them all? He'd never done so much reading in his life!

He tried reading the first page of the top book, but gave up as the words started swimming from the page. Man, this was hopeless! He couldn't get through one page of one book, let alone all the pages of all the books he'd found. If only they were picture books, so he wouldn't have to read as many words...

Wait.

These books were definitely not picture books, but maybe they had pictures in them! They had to, if they had instructions about summoning ghosts, right?

He began flipping through the first book, searching for pictures related to summoning. He found none.

The second book: nothing.

The third book: no pictures, let alone anything to do with summoning.

He was ready to give up by the fourth book, when he finally found something. A circle with symbols and candles drawn all around it. The caption read, "Summoning Circle for Spirites of a Benev..." Dash stopped reading it as the words spun from the page. The rest of the sentence didn't matter - this was exactly what he needed.

He walked to the front desk to check out the book.

"Find what you're looking for?" It was the same librarian who had helped him find the occult section.

"Yeah. Now you just need to do whatever it is you do with it so I can take it home, right?"

"That is correct. Do you have a library card?"

"Wait, those are real?"

The librarian held back a sigh and nodded. "Yes, very real. I can sign you up for one, and then you can check out that book."

"Alright, but can I keep my name off of it? I don't want to look like a nerd who goes to the library."

At this, the librarian did sigh. "The card has to have your name printed on it so you know for sure it's yours. If you want to check out that book, you need a library card. Would you like to get a library card?"

After a few minutes of pointless attempts to haggle, a few more minutes filling out forms, and about thirty seconds to print out the card, Dash finally checked out the book. The librarian gave a tired sigh before asking, "Is there anything else-"

But Dash was already out the door.

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night. A Thursday night, so none of his friends expected him at a party. And his parents were out on business, and he didn't have to worry about them returning until Sunday afternoon. A perfect night for summoning a ghost.

Dash drew the circle in red chalk on a tarp because he didn't have lamb's blood and he didn't want to mess up the basement floor. He lit his mom's scented candles and put them in between the few white candles he'd found in the kitchen drawer. Then he chanted the sacred Latin text.

"Comp-compello quad benev- benelaphan- _what the heck does that say?_ ben-ev-o-len-shuh- benevolenshuh! spiritus n-no-mine insert name here- no, Phantom! Phantom! Et ligo quad ut me... volunt-ass!" Dash shouted in triumph as he finished the text.

Nothing happened.

Dash tried again, more confident in his pronunciation.

Still nothing.

He decided to give it one more shot. If it didn't work, he'd put away the candles, roll up the tarp, and find Phantom another way.

He spoke the Latin text.

Nothing.

"Aw, poop," Dash muttered. But as he bent down to blow out the first candle, a cold breeze blew past him, blowing it out for him.

Suddenly all the candles went out. A strong swirling wind, like a cyclone, blew above the summoning circle, rippling the tarp outside the circle, but somehow leaving it fixed within the circle.

Dash backed away from the circle. As he did, he heard a scream just over the wind - soft, but getting louder and louder until-

THUMP.

A figure fell from the ceiling. As it landed, the wind stopped.

_It worked. It actually worked!_

A smile lit Dash's face, but quickly vanished as he examined the figure. It wasn't glowing, and it didn't look like Phantom. The hair was dark and messy, the body skinny and not at all muscular like Dash imagined Phantom would be up close.

In fact, as he took a step closer, the figure seemed familiar in a different way. An enraging, total loser, freaky geek kind of way.

The figure groaned. "Anyone get the number on that truck that hit me?"

Yep. That was Fenton.

Dash felt his face turn red. Blood rushed in his ears, and he shouted, "Fenturd! What the heck are you doing here?!"

Fenton groaned again. "What the hell... can you talk a little louder, the spike in my head hasn't hit the back of it yet."

"You shouldn't be here, Fentoenail! That wasn't supposed to happen!"

"You shouldn't be here." Fenton carefully rolled onto his back, wincing as he worked himself up to a sitting position. He glanced up at Dash. "Where is here, anyways?"

"What the- what do you mean, 'where is here'? My basement is where is here! Now what the heck are _you_ doing here? This was supposed to summon Phantom, not you, Fenturd!"

"Your basement... Phantom...?" then Fenton's eyes widened. Great, _now_ he got it. Clueless dork.

"Yeah! Now get out of my basement, Fentonio!"

Fenton narrowed his eyes at him, then shook his head. "Whatever, Dash."

He pushed himself to his feet and winced, stumbling and shaking his head. Dash almost felt sorry for him.

Then Fenton tried to step beyond the circle.

He reacted as if he'd hit a brick wall, stumbling back and holding his nose. Dash had no clue what was going on, but Fenton looked like a Looney Tunes character, and he couldn't help but snicker.

"What the hell!" Fenton cried, tears in his eyes, still holding his nose. "You knew that was going to happen, didn't you!"

Dash's snickers died down, but he still smirked. "Now why the heck would I know a thing like that, Fentoad?"

"Uh, because you _brought_ me here?" Fenton raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Hey, all I did was copy some stupid spell from some freaky deaky book I go- I mean I found. It was supposed to bring Phantom, but something's wrong with it because it brought _you_ instead."

"Then can I see that 'freaky deaky' book you 'found'?" Fenton asked, adding air quotes before reaching out a hand to the edge of the circle.

"Why should I give it to you, Fentofu?"

"Look, the sooner you give me the book, the sooner I can figure out how to undo whatever crap you did and get me out of here!"

Fenton did have a point. He was always better at reading than Dash, even if he wasn't at the top of the class. Dash frown, but he handed over the book, still open to the summoning circle.

"Whatever, Fentoejam."

Fenton ignored him, opting instead to read over the summoning instructions.

"Lamb's blood, ew... what the hell kind of Latin is this? It looks like someone just googled a bunch of words and smashed them together... 'Compello quod benevolentia spiritus nomine... et ligo... pick-ax? No, _bind_... mea voluntas..."

Dash zoned out while Fenton muttered to himself. Of course Fenton would know Latin... what a nerd.

But then Fenton slammed the book shut, startling Dash.

"You were going to _bind me to your will?"_

"What? No way! You're not even supposed to be here!"

"Whatever! You were going to bind _Phantom_ to your will then? That's insane!"

"No duh, Fentool, that's what supervillains and stuff do! Why would I do that?"

"That's what the Latin's trying to say! Very poorly, I might add, and I have no clue how the hell this managed to work, but-"

"Hey Fentony, punch yourself in the face."

Fenton stared at him, aghast. "Why the hell would I do that?"

Dash pouted. "Aw, it didn't work."

Fenton stared at Dash. Then he smacked his palm to his forehead, dragging it down his face to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I tell you this summoning spell is supposed to bind people to your will. And your first reaction. Is to try to make me punch myself in the face."

"Well, it would have been funny as heck!"

Fenton took a deep breath. And then another. Then he lowered his hand to the book. "Whatever, man, just- whatever." He opened his eyes, reopening the book to flip to the right page. "Just let me find the counterspell so I can get the hell out of here and we can stop thinking about this."

Dash crossed his arms. "Whatever, Fentoffee. The sooner you're out of my house, the sooner I can try and contact Phantom."

Fenton went stiff at that. He looked up at Dash.

"Do _not_ use this spell- or any other spell- to try and summon Phantom."

"Why the heck not? You can't tell me what to do!"

Fenton rolled his eyes. "You noticed how I fell from the ceiling? How I _still_ have a pounding headache? How that spell was _literally supposed to make me your slave?_ You think any ghost would want to talk to you after having to deal with that?"

Dash huffed. Fenton had a point. "But then how do I find him before Friday night?"

Fenton looked up at the ceiling, muttering under his breath. Then he looked at Dash. "Look, if you really want to talk to him, go to that big weeping willow at the end of the park after school. He'll be there."

Dash narrowed his eyes at Fenton. "How do I know he'll know when to show up?"

Fenton smacked himself in the head with the open book. He muttered something that sounded a lot like I D ten T. Identity? Whatever. Weirdo. Fenton then lowered the book, looking Dash square in the eyes.

"I live in a house with an active ghost portal in the basement. I think I can get a message out to him."

Dash narrowed his eyes further. Fenton did have a point. But still...

"If Phantom doesn't show, you're Fentoast!"

Fenton rolled his eyes, then turned back to the book. "Whatever. Now shut up and let me concentrate. The Latin in this book is terrible."

Dash didn't have anything to say to that, so he didn't say anything at all. Instead he frowned and crossed his arms, foot tapping as he stared at the ceiling. He had so many questions for Phantom... what being a hero was like, how big his muscles were, if he could join the football team... and of course, if he would come to the big party Friday night. With his parents out of town for the weekend, it made his place the perfect place for a super cool party - invite only, of course. And what party would be complete without the biggest celebrity in town?

"Aha!"

Dash started from his musings, raising an eyebrow at Fenton. "What?"

"I found the counterspell! The Latin is _really_ terrible - whoever wrote this _never_ took a class in Latin - but I'm pretty sure this'll send me back."

"Whatever, Fentoga. Just read it so you can get the heck out of my basement."

"Well, that's the thing. You've gotta say it. Here, I'll say it first, and you repeat after me. _'Ejicio quod spiritus cessim ex quibus quod venio.'"_

"Uh... Eject quad spirit says him what?"

Fenton pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Look, let's just... go word by word, okay?"

"Whatever, Fentoothpaste."

"Alright." Fenton took a breath. "Now, repeat after me. Ejicio..."

And so they went, Fenton reading the word and Dash repeating it. Eventually, they reached the last word.

At first, nothing happened.

Then a breeze swept by them both.

It began to swirl around Fenton, lifting him up into the air. He shouted above the wind.

"Oh yeah I'm taking this with me you'll probably never see it again sorry bye!"

His "bye" turned into a scream as he shot up towards the ceiling. Right as he was about to hit, he disappeared.

The wind stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving Dash on the chalk-covered tarp with only the unlit candles to keep him company.

Dash blinked. Fenton... had taken his book.

The book he'd checked out of the library.

The book he was supposed to return as soon as he was done with it.

He didn't even _like_ the library, and he was already saddled with replacing a book.

"FENTOILET!"

* * *

**Prompt: "Dash tries to summon Phantom to ask him all sorts of questions. What does he do when Fenton appears in the summoning circle instead?" - quishaphantom on tumblr; quishaweasley on ffn**

Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!


	10. Selfish

Danny wants to sleep.

He wants to roll over in his bed and ignore the chill down his spine and the vapor pouring from his mouth.

He hasn't had any decent sleep in weeks, and he is tired, _so_ tired of waking up at – he checks his clock – 2:43 in the morning to deal with ghosts.

He scrunches his eyes shut, burrowing into the warmth of the covers.

_It's probably just the Box Ghost._

Danny wonders if it would really be that bad to be selfish, just for once.

_The vat explodes, it explodes and tears his family and friends apart, it explodes and the fire engulfs everyone he loves in an instant, it explodes and all he can do is watch–_

_Laughter, terrible and insane and full of hate, bubbling from the chest adorned with his symbol–_

_"I'm still here. I still exist. That means you still turn into me."_

His eyes shoot open, and he shudders with his ghost sense.

He wants to sleep.

Instead he phases out of the covers, floating himself to his feet as he stares out the window, stares and does his best to push back the sights and sounds and smells of the day he was selfish and everything almost fell apart.

"I'm going ghost," he mutters to himself.

A bright flash of light.

He flies out the window.

* * *

**Prompt: "Sometimes Danny wonders if it would really be that bad to be selfish, just for once." - lexiepiper on tumblr; Alexa Piper on ffn; Alexa_Piper on ao3**

Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated!


	11. And Nobody Cared

**TW: Suicide**

* * *

He was the best at imitating voices. He could imitate any actress – just give him a name. Marilyn Monroe? Done. Audrey Hepburn? Perfect. Selma Diamond? No one could tell the difference. He could even do more modern actresses: Kathleen Turner, Meg Ryan, Vanity, Pam Grier, Sigourney Weaver... if you could name her, or give him a sample audio, he could do the voice.

He was most proud of his male voices, though. Those were harder to do, but far more satisfying when he pulled them off. Michael Jackson, George Michael, Tom Cruise, even Ronald Regean and Silvester Stalone went off with rarely a hitch.

And nobody cared.

He could slip into and out of a room with practiced ease – navigate a room full of people without alerting anyone to his presence. He had a talent for acting – he could slip into the skin of any character he pleased, switching between roles as easily as changing hats. He could have blown the theater kids out of the water with his ability to act, and to slip into and out of a scene unnoticed.

But nobody cared.

Not since the accident that had sent him to live with his uncle, his parents unable to care because they were dead, his uncle unable to care because he was drunk, his classmates unwilling to care because he was a loser without parents, without a sober uncle, without friends.

_Nobody cared._

He was a fast learner. He learned how to apply makeup and contour to his face to change its shape, making him look more masculine or more feminine or more androgenous as he pleased. He learned well enough to get decent grades – well enough that no one noticed him slipping, that no one noticed the ache in his chest where he supposed his heart once was.

He learned how to unlock his uncle's bedroom door with a bobby pin in 30 seconds flat.

He learned how to tie a noose in the vacuum's wire.

How to tie one end to the door and sling the other end over one of the rafters in the ceiling so it would remain taut.

He learned how to balance on a chair on the bed.

And he learned how to kick the chair out from under him.

Maybe this time, someone would see what he'd done, and consider it noteworthy. Maybe this time, someone would care.

But he doubted it.

* * *

**Prompt: "Before The Fall - Pick any ghost from Danny's roster and write about what led up to their death." - GrimGrinningGhoul on tumblr**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all commentary is appreciated.**


	12. Buzzkill

"Hey, Technus!"

"IT IS I, TECHNUS, MASTER OF ALL TECHN-"

"Cut the crap, I need to ask you a favor."

"HA! WHY WOULD I, TECHNUS, SWORN ENEMY OF THE GHOST CHILD-"

_BZZZZT!_

"WHY WOULD I, TECHNUS, SWORN-"

_BZZZZT!_

"WHY WOULD I-"

_BZZZZT!_

_"WOULD YOU STOP THAT?"_

"I _can't!_ No matter what I do-"

_BZZZZT!_

"-it just keeps happening-"

_BZZZZT!_

"-and it won't-"

_BZZZZT!_

"-freaking-"

_BZZZZT!_

_"-stop!"_

_BZZZZZZZZZZZZT!_

"HM. I SEE YOUR PROBLEM!"

_BZZZZT!_

"Yeah, no kidding, Sherlock!"

_BZZZZT!_

"I'm shooting _electricity_ everywhere-"

_BZZZZT!_

"-and I don't know how to stop it-"

"YOU ARE COMING INTO YOUR ELECTRIC CORE!"

"... What?"

"YOUR CORE, CHILD, YOUR CORE! IT IS THE VERY CENTER OF YOUR BEING! ANYTHING ELSE THAT IS REMOVED CAN BE GROWN BACK - YOUR CORE CANNOT, FOR IT IS THE VERY MACHINE THAT TELLS YOUR GHOST FORM WHAT FORM IT MUST TAKE!"

"Okay... but how does that relate to my problem?"

"IT IS QUITE SIMPLE! YOU SEE, WHEN CORES MATURE, THEY CAN CONTROL DIFFERENT FORMS OF ELEMENTS! SOME CONTROL ICE; SOME CONTROL FIRE; OURS CONTROL ELECTRICITY!"

"Oh, that's great. How do I keep my core from _killing everyone I meet?"_

"YOU'RE DOING IT ALREADY!"

"What? No I'm not. I'm getting lectured at by you if I'm doing anything."

"YES, YOU ARE! AFTER ALL, NOT ONCE HAVE YOU EXPELLED ELECTRICITY DURING THIS LEARNING EXPERIENCE CONDUCTED BY ME, TECHNUS, MASTER OF ALL THINGS ELECTRICAL!"

"Wait, what?"

_BZZZZT!_

"Wow, you're right! I guess you really are a buzzkill!"

"THEN I, TECHNUS, WILL BE _YOUR_ 'BUZZKILL'!"

"..."

_BZZZZT!_

"IS THAT NOT CORRECT USE OF THE TERM?"

"..."

_BZZZZZZZZT!_

"... AS THE KIDS SAY, 'WHATEVER'."

_BZZZZT!_

"NOW LISTEN CLOSELY, GHOST CHILD! FIRST RULE: NEVER INTERRUPT ME, TECHNUS, MASTER OF-"

_"What?!_"

_BZZZZT!_

"Even when we're fighting?"

_BZZZZT!_

"That is _so_ not fair-"

_BZZZZT!_

"-you've gotta be kid-"

"AHEM."

_BZZZZT!_

"..."

"..."

"... Fine."

"FIRST RULE: NEVER INTERRUPT ME, TECHNUS, MASTER OF TEACHING GHOST CHILDREN ABOUT ELECTRIC CORES, _WHEN I AM TEACHING YOU!"_

"... Fine. I can do that."

_BZZZZT!_

"... Maybe."

* * *

**Prompt: "Electric Core AU - Danny's powers are acting up and he can't figure out how to get them under control, so he's forced to go to the only other ghost he knows with electric powers for help. Write about Danny learning from Technus." - GrimGrinningGhoul on tumblr**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated.**


	13. A Nice Place to Live

Amity Park. A Nice Place to Live.

That had been the town motto since the day it was established.

Of course, like every town, Amity Park had gone through its hardships. It suffered during the Civil War, and the Great Depression hit it hard, as it did all small towns.

But when all was said and done, Amity Park remained a nice place to live.

It was only recently that Amity Park became known for being a strange place to live.

There were the ghosts, for one thing.

Of course, every town claimed to have ghosts. They had history, and history had people, and most of those people were dead.

But no town had ghosts quite as present and in your face as Amity Park ghosts.

Ghosts who appeared to everyone. Ghosts who caused chaos wherever they went. Ghosts who fought other ghosts in broad daylight, destroying buildings and leaving impact craters that looked and felt oh so very real.

Even so, the people of Amity Park still lived by their town motto.

Ghost attack on the way to work? Pick a different route.

Ghosts haunting the mall? Pick a different day to go shopping.

Ghosts invading work? That could mean a day off!

Overall, Amity Park was still a nice place to live.

After the Pariah Dark incident, things became a bit stranger than before.

GPS failed to work. Not only because compasses pointed north as often as they pointed anywhere else. The very layout of the streets changed, sometimes as often as compasses changed where they pointed. No one caught the streets change. Rather, they instinctively knew that work would be three streets down Nicholson Lane instead of two, or that school would be on the other side of Amity Park's Amity Park. The changes baffled visitors when they came, but residents quickly became used to the change. It was just another thing that made their town quirky and unique.

Residents also learned to accept their electronics turning on at random, whether or not they were unplugged. It was a bit annoying – no one wanted to wake up to the vacuum turning on at three in the morning – but they learned how to deal with it. They arranged their electronics in positions that wouldn't cause accidents should they turn on. They put on their best earmuffs and sleep masks. And they rolled over and went back to sleep.

Perhaps the strangest thing about Amity Park was its people. After all, between the ghost attacks, the electronics, and the changing maze of streets and buildings, what normal person would want to live in a place like Amity Park? But if questioned where they would rather live, the residents unanimously gave a single answer.

Amity Park.

A nice place to live.

* * *

**Prompt:**** "Ghostly Amity AU: After the events of reign storm the citizens of Amity Park notice that even though their town was returned to the human world, weird anomalies keep popping up. Compasses no longer work within the city limits, electronics will randomly turn on even when unplugged. The hospital has to refer anyone who needs an EKG to a doctor in the next town due to strange noise that can't be calibrated away." - fruity-hub-blog on tumblr; 2fruity4u on ao3 and ffn**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated.**


	14. Inhuman

Danny needs to remind himself to breathe.

He hasn't needed to for a while, but it's good to keep up appearances. He doesn't want his classmates and teachers to notice. But more importantly, he doesn't want his family to notice. Or Sam and Tucker to notice.

And he likes the feeling of his diaphragm stretching, pulling air into his lungs. He likes the rush of air traveling through his nasal passages and down his throat and bronchial tubes to fill his lungs. He likes to breathe – so sue him.

But he doesn't always remember to breathe.

* * *

Danny rarely has a heartbeat.

He remembers when it would beat quickly when he was nervous, or angry, or anticipating the pain to come from another ghost fight.

He remembers when he would place his hand against his chest – reassure himself that he was still human, despite these powers telling him otherwise, despite the fact that he doesn't need to breathe.

Not anymore.

Danny's heart hasn't beaten in a while. He wonders dully if the last beat was the final beat, and he just didn't notice.

_lub_

_dub_

Nope. There it goes. 15 minutes between beats now, the beats slow and sluggish, almost painful in their lethargy. He instinctively puts a hand to his chest, but it's too late. The beat has gone.

He takes a breath, although he doesn't need to.

Then he puts on a smile and waves to Sam and Tucker, crossing the street to meet them.

* * *

Danny can't eat normal food.

It's bland, and it tastes like cardboard, and he vomits it up a half an hour later.

And afterwards, he is _so hungry._

It takes him a week to figure it out – and only then because his parents left the lab door open. The smell wafts from the doorway, and he is _entranced._ He can't help himself as he drifts down the stairs – can't help himself as he floats to the nearest table, to the nearest beaker bubbling green.

He can't help himself when his hands reach out, shaking as they grasp the beaker, ectoplasm sloshing onto his fingers. It only stings a little, but not enough to break him from his trance.

It stings on the way down his throat, too, but he doesn't mind – for the first time in weeks, he feels the hunger abate. When the beaker's empty, he grabs a flask, and then a series of test tubes – and before he knows it, he's cleared the whole table, and he finally feels _full._

* * *

Danny wonders how it got this way – how he became so... inhuman.

He holds a glowing ball of ectoplasm in his human hands. Once upon a time, the ectoplasm would have burned and blistered his fingers, his palms. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have been able to summon this much ectoplasm as a human in the first place.

He scoffs. _Human._ He doesn't need to breathe. His heart doesn't beat. He can't eat food unless it's infused with ectoplasm, and even then the food is half-tasteless – he may as well eat the ectoplasm directly. It's not like he hasn't done it before.

He isn't human. No matter how hard he tries to be.

He hasn't been human for a long time.

* * *

**Prompt: "Danny realizes that the more he uses his ghost powers the less human he becomes." - marshmallowmayhem on tumblr**

**Thank you for reading! Any and all feedback is appreciated.**


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